


Your Attention Is The One Thing I'm Craving, and Guess What, I'm Desperate.

by West_Coast_Moper



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom!Patrick, Dom/sub, Fingering, M/M, Mentioning of a blow job, Neglected Pete, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Spanking kinda I guess, Sub!Pete, attention seeking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/West_Coast_Moper/pseuds/West_Coast_Moper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's behavior hasn't really been the best these past few days. He's been bitching at everyone, whether it's about his missing flat iron, his spilled cup of coffee, that isn't even really coffee by Patrick's standards from the amount of sugar and cream in it, or honestly just one person existing in wrong place at the wrong time. It's starting to become ridiculous and Patrick's fuckin' had it with this bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Attention Is The One Thing I'm Craving, and Guess What, I'm Desperate.

Patrick thumb twitches, clicking his pen repeatedly as his eyes scan over Pete's hunched form above one of the sound tables and Patrick can detect faint curses muttered beneath his breath.

 

Patrick's eyes narrow when Pete's shoulders slump, the glint of metal on his collar flickering from the flash of the ceiling lights. Patrick shifts somewhat in his chair, unable to focus on the work he's been absorbed in for this past week, and that actually may have something to do with this sudden attitude he's receiving.

 

Pete's behavior hasn't really been the best these past few days. He's been bitching at everyone, whether it's about his missing flat iron, his spilled cup of coffee. That isn't even coffee by Patrick's standards from the amount of sugar in it, or honestly just one person existing in wrong place at the wrong time. It's starting to become ridiculous and Patrick's fuckin' had it.

 

Pete's even been a dick to Dirty, his partner in crime, well, within pranks, which Patrick will not stand to put up with. Which hits him with a faded memory of an abashed Pete on his knees, bones scraping against the rough cement of the floor as he's forced to apologize to some crew members over a stupid theory of "How many crew members would it take to screw in a light bulb...if the floor is covered in maple syrup."

 

Patrick isn't actually sure how they managed to obtain so many bottles of syrup and okay, he's sort of impressed. Although he'd never admit it, he knows better than to encourage Pete's idiocy. All he knows is people slipped and people tripped, thus falling to the possibility of broken bones and or concussions and no way is Pete getting away with that bullshit, not even if he can, and will give his widest puppy dog eyes with a miserable pout on the side.

 

Patrick doesn't fall for that shit anymore, he only ever did once and that was when he was still in his sex drunken haze, after glow flourishing within him, sweet and dizzy scattering his brain after Pete had sunken to his knees and gave himself the task to blow Patrick.

 

Without permission and Patrick thought about pushing Pete off, but then Pete--the sneaky bastard did that little trick, y'know the one with his tongue--he dragged it across Patrick's slit, lapping at a dollop of precum, while his hand wrapped around the base and squeezed, fuck.

 

It's kind of hard to deny anything when there's a tight wet mouth around his cock, sliding up and down and bobbing back and forth. Pretty flushed lips sucking him so good, and lewd squelching noises emitting from the action while tan cheeks are hollowed, sunken in to increase his arousal filled state.

 

A growl bubbles up in his throat and he chokes it back, _not yet_ , he shifts again, but this time it's only served to relieve some of the friction set into his crotch. The rough material of his jeans is chafing and the denim scratchy, and maybe thinking about Pete on his knees wasn't the best way to begin his inner monologue.

 

But well, maybe Pete just wanted some attention. Patrick considers this, his facial expression thoughtful and his eyes half lidded while they're still locked onto Pete's defeated frame.

 

Patrick's closely observing every one of his moves, almost as if he's a predator, in some cases he is, but right now he's not too sure. Patrick's not really one for public displays of affection but in some circumstances he really doesn't have a choice.

 

He slides out of his seat when Pete groans out in frustration, his fist coming into contact with the speaker next to him. "Hey, hey, calm down." Patrick murmurs, sliding his arms around Pete's waist, but Pete squirms within his grasp. "Can you--" Pete cuts himself off, his mouth falling open in a gasp as Patrick grinds softly against him.

 

"let go.." Pete finishes, voice breathy, vulnerable. Patrick places his nose into the crook of Pete's neck, gently nuzzling as he whispers, "Why?" Pete huffs in response his fingers coming down to grip tightly around Patrick's forearms, his knuckles blanching from the pressure.

 

"I d-don't, want to be touched." Pete chokes, his words strangled as if Patrick's hands are already wrapped around his throat, fingers squeezing into the line of his throat, cruel and painful, Patrick would never do that without Pete's permission through evaluated consent. Pete's consent means the world to Patrick, it's valued and _very_ important, which makes it evident as to why they have a safe word.

 

"Are you sure?" Patrick asks, the tone of his voice calm and kind. Pete nods, his eyes clenched shut causing the skin around them to crinkle ever so slightly. Patrick's hands tighten around Pete's abdomen, wrinkling the cotton material of the other's shirt before slowly loosening and he begins to pull away.

 

At the lack of contact Pete immediately claws at Patrick's wrists tugging him back until his chest is lined up against Pete's shoulder blades and Pete turns his head, pressing his face into Patrick's neck as he lets out a high pitched whine.

 

"Pete, doll, what do-- _you_ \--want?" Patrick questions as his hands creep up beneath the hem of Pete's T-shirt to caress soft warm skin, he places his palms against Pete's sides and then his thumbs exert a small amount of pressure into the hollows of narrow hipbones.

 

Although it's small it still manages to pry a broken whimper from Pete, "Want, w-want you." He stutters, swallowing hard as Patrick pauses briefly in his actions. "I thought you didn't?" Pete shakes his head in a frantic motion. " _Want you._ " He repeats, desperate, his nails digging into Patrick's arms.

 

"Care to be a little more elaborate with your requests?" Patrick chuckles and he knows he's being a dick but Pete deserves a little bit of punishment for the innocent people wrongfully bashed in the midst of their issues.

 

"I want all of you." Pete hisses, bucking his hips back and grounding himself into Patrick, more precisely his ass into Patrick's dick. Patrick growls, his eyes flashing as his hands venture upward to circle around Pete's waist and his fingers trail over to dig into protruding bones of Pete's rib cage, digging and prodding, his fingernails scraping lightly over the delicate skin covering them. So delicate--pretty.

 

Pete twists and turns in the hold, groaning. "Patrick, p-please, please." Pete pleads, however Patrick isn't sure of what he's begging for, and he kind of doubts that Pete knows either.

 

So Patrick'll just have to guess for now, which kind of flips the situation and turns into him unbuttoning Pete's jeans and yanking them down his thighs, a suppressed sense of delight overwhelming him at the lack of Pete's underwear.

 

Patrick slides a hand up to the center of Pete's back to softly push him down into the soundboard and Pete's knees buckle in response, in fact his entire body is trembling, small whimpers escape him as Patrick's hands come down to rest against the skin of his ass.

 

It's silent, for a moment until Pete lurches forward startled into a loud moan as Patrick kneads in the meat of his ass, spreading him somewhat and then there's fingers tracing, circling around his hole.

 

"Patrick I--" The younger narrows his eyes at the touch, detecting the sensation of a slippery substance, and when he works a finger in, up to the knuckle--little to no resistance, _slick_ and _loose_. "You--you did this?--fingered yourself?" Patrick asks in a murmur, awed, mostly because he really didn't expect this, however he's to blame.

 

Patrick isn't mad or anything, he doesn't have rules against Pete pleasuring himself without Patrick present, Patrick can't always be around so he gets it--it's just...unexpected...

 

"Y-yeah." Pete breathes, body twitching in slight spasms as he shoves back into the hand. Patrick eyes widen and he licks his lips at the sight of his index finger slipping in and out of Pete's ass and the corners of his lips lift into a grin as he quietly asks Pete, "Did you use one of the toys?"

 

Pete groans, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he gives a rapid nod of his head. "Yes--" "Did you think of me?" Patrick interrupts, withdrawing his finger and moving to unbuckle his belt and Pete whines from the lack of Patrick, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the sensation of emptiness. His hips wiggle somewhat until Patrick seizes them and stills the movement before lining up the head of his dick with Pete's ass. "Did you?"

 

"Of f-fucking course I did." Pete groans, pushing his hips up in an attempt to try and force Patrick inside him--Patrick knows Pete's never cared for the pain, he loves it really, likes to feel the stretch, the overexertion of his body to fit Patrick's needs, but more then anything, he _loves_ the aftermath. "Who else?"

 

Patrick's silence is the only answer as he tilts his head before bucking himself forward, ramming into Pete which results in a shrill yelp from the bassist.

 

"Fuck!--P-Patrick--god I've missed you--" Pete wheezes and Patrick pulls back before snapping his hips brutally and Pete shrieks in pleasure, it's been too long since they've even gotten the chance to do this.Patrick knows he's not gonna last very long and by the way Pete's on the verge of crying, his hands scrambling over the surface of the table in order to gain purchase, he's not gonna either.

 

"T-the--toys, a-are nothing in comp--parison to you, sir." Pete sobs, vocals just a broken note in themselves, and Patrick's breath is beginning to become mangled, harsh and no longer steady as he pushes forward until he pauses briefly, rotating his hips in circles and this only really serves in teasing Pete just a little more.

 

"Patrick, c-come on!" Pete hisses, however said hiss turns into one of pain when one of Patrick's palms comes down hard upon one of his cheeks. Pete immediately ducks his head at the action, the vertebrae of his spine jutting out as he shamefully whispers. "'M sorry."

 

Patrick hums, rubbing the already reddened skin gently. "You're forgiven." and then Patrick begins to move and Pete hands scramble once again, caught off guard and they struggle to stay put as the thrusts push him forward.

 

This time it's much worse because Patrick's treading cautiously, _recklessly_ really, over the line of coming and or dying so he decides to wrap his hand around Pete's dick and tug.

 

He rub roughly into the ridge of Pete's head fingering the slit in revenge, and then hot spurts of come coat his fist, and the soundboard, Patrick is already mentally giving apologies in advance, and they're probably going to have to pay for this, fuck.

 

Patrick falters in his movements, his set rhythm wavering as he bucks one more time and comes hard and Pete lets out a weak moan, still feeling the warmth penetrating his afterglow.

 

Patrick collapses against Pete for a brief moment, his muscles giving small spasms and it's kind of difficult to breathe, his lungs feel tight as if they're not able to contract but he surpasses it and inhales deeply before sliding off of Pete.

 

Pete seems to be in shock as Patrick pulls him up and places him on his feet, his toes curl and his eyelids droop. "Thanks, I guess." He sighs, patting Patrick on the shoulder. Patrick rolls his eyes opening his mouth to retort with, "You're an asshole." Though the words are spiteful, his tone is fond, but his expression takes the form of concerned in a matter of seconds.

 

"Hey, just tell me when you need my attention, okay?--you're important to me." Pete body stiffens and Patrick wraps his arms around Pete's waist, tracing tiny patterns in the form of random words, however not all are aimless for one of them spells out l o v e.

 

Pete quickly relaxes and his hands come up to paw at Patrick's chest and he leans up to peck him on the lips, being his stance is frail and his knees are weak and he's sort of deranged in the midst of his haze.

 

"'Just missed you and I guess I needed that." Pete brushes his nose against Patrick's collarbone and gives a content sigh. Patrick's lips curl into a slight grin and his arms tighten instinctively. "'Love you." Pete whispers and Patrick nods in reply. "Likewise, dumbass."

 

...

 

"Y'know your pants are still down, right?"

 

"So what?--your cock is still hanging from the zipper of your jeans and it's just flapping there, looking kind of ridiculous, not that I'm complaining."

 

"Of course you're not."


End file.
